


These are big feelings we feel

by snofeey



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians & Related Fandoms - All Media Types, Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, First Kiss, Light Angst, M/M, Slow Burn, solangelo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-30
Updated: 2018-09-30
Packaged: 2019-07-20 12:34:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,764
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16137344
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snofeey/pseuds/snofeey
Summary: At some point, Will's mom tells him, he met his soulmate. It may have been brief, only eye contact, they may have been best friends. But what that now means is that when something disturbs the soul, it will ripple out to him.--Since he was ten, Will has felt the echoes of violent emotions from his soulmate. Nico starts feeling those echoes at fifteen. College eases those feelings, not that either of them know why, possibly because they're both protesting that there is nothing going on between them, thank you very much.





	These are big feelings we feel

_\--Fall- Will_

The first time was when he was six, or thereabouts he thinks; he knows that it was after the visit to Washington DC he made with his mom and his step-father, back when he was just the new boyfriend.

The feeling was dim and distant, almost lost amongst the turmoil of a new family and change. Sadness and confusion, loss. But he was feeling that too, especially the confusion, as his world suddenly became more and more complicated: a step-father, then a new brother. He liked that his mother never stopped smiling; that had to be good. But everything else—it was too much.

He knew though, that he wasn’t supposed to be sad.

So it’s no surprise, really, that the quiet, confused sense of loss and grief got lost in the confusion of his mother’s hasty marriage to her soulmate in time for their son, his brother, to be born. No surprise, that he only realized what it was in retrospect.

_\--Winter- Will_

The second time though; no overlooking that. He’s ten when it happens, when the wave of grief crashes down, followed by an onslaught of anger, betrayal, and self-recrimination. They’re emotions he doesn’t really have names for, not ones this extreme. They wake him in the middle of the night, his cries echoing through the house, killing the silence.

His mother has no answers for him, just reassuring words as he sobs into her shoulder. She can’t answer the _what is happening?_ that manages to slip through his tears and hiccups. It feels like hours later that he falls back asleep, huddled against her on the couch. She stays home from work with him the next day, sends his brothers to a neighbor’s and he’s too rattled to complain about being left behind. It’s that day that he gets the Talk.

At some point, she tells him in the afternoon, he met his soulmate. It may have been brief, only eye contact, they may have been best friends (he doubts that; Cecil is great, but no). But what that now means is that when something disturbs the soul, it will ripple out to him.

“But I thought soulmates were supposed to be _good_!” He still hurts, is still shaken to his core by what happened last night.

“Sweetheart,” she sighs, “they _are,_ I promise. But sometimes bad things happen, and the soulbond is God’s way of making sure we don’t have to go it alone.” But his soulmate was going through this alone, he pointed out. _Well,_ his mother said uneasily, _hopefully she has family with her to help_. That doesn’t sound right, but he doesn’t push.

_Always put a bright face on_ , his mother had once sang, and it was still her go-to. So when she tells him to cheer up and send good thoughts his soulmate’s way, Will smiles and tries to do just that.

A few days later when it comes up, he tells her that it had faded, that whatever had happened had been fixed. That’s what she wants to hear, it’s what will make _her_ feel better, he knows, and so he says it. Doesn’t tell her that the anger lasts more months, the guilt for months after that.

_Don’t be sad, not when the sun shines for you._

_Things really aren’t that bad—put a bright face on,_

_You’ll see it’s true._

And he doesn’t tell her when the pain returns in December, lingers into January.

_\--Summer- Nico_

He first learns about soulmates when he’s eleven, at the latest foster home they’ve thrown him in after Minos.

(Who knew—allowing someone who called himself the _Ghost King_ to foster a mentally unstable ten year old didn’t actually work.)

The family’s kid is talking about soulmates with one of the fosters; both are older than him and therefore feel secure in both their ability to show off how much they know while also pretending to ignore him. Once he gets the gist of this thing he’s heard about off and on, he tunes out. He’s known about soulmates for all of five minutes, and he’s pretty sure he doesn’t like the whole thing. Especially that bit about them feeling what you do; he’s had some pretty big feelings, and he doesn’t need anyone’s pity.

And maybe, just maybe, he feels bad about shoving them on someone else. Christmas is supposed to be a happy time; it’s not fair that his soulmate might not have gotten that, just because his world overturned.

But there was one thing Minos was right about: life wasn’t fair. The best that could be hoped for was justice.

A few weeks later, and the foster parents are calling social services in exasperation, asking that he be taken away. The next morning, they call again, panic this time, to report his disappearance.

He sees Percy occasionally over the next few years, and every time Bianca’s old classmate tries to get him to come off the streets. And every time Nico just scowls and walks away; where would he even go?

_\--Fall- Nico_

They call him Ghost, a joke: most of the kids he meets knew Minos, one way or another. The man was obsessed and paranoid, but he was brilliant and had built a homeless empire based on information and rumor. But they also call him that because, as far as they can tell, he basically _is_ one. Silent, pale with a mess of black hair, always dressed in faded black. He sits in the shadows, and no one can see him.

Well, until he collapses in front of a coffee shop’s back door and the two baristas opening the next day find him. Then they haul him in, make him wash up in the tiny bathroom, and feed him. Now he shows up every day they’re on shift, like it or not; he’s been taught by nuns, but they have nothing on Reyna Avila Ramírez-Arellano and Thalia Grace.

All told, he’s on the streets for a few years, and he’s fifteen when a lance of hurt and frustration pierces through, fueled by something he can almost taste, on the tip of his tongue. It fades fast though, not the consuming fury of his own past, settles into dull resignation, and for the next few days, words jangle around in his head, but they’re not his.

_I should have known_.

What, he has no idea. But for once he’s not caught up in his own frustration and anger. And maybe he feels a little guilty for being so caught up in them; what if he had missed something? Was this the first time something had hurt his soulmate this bad, or had he been hurt before and Nico missed it? He doesn’t feel the rage that used to control him anymore, he’s made his peace with Bianca, more or less, but last year, well. There might have been something in the summer, but he was so busy trying to stay angry at Percy and avoid him that he couldn’t say. He hopes whoever his soulmate is, he’s okay. Because this kind of pain really sucks, and he doesn’t want anyone to go through it (not even Percy, though he does want to punch that face, a lot). It’s not because he cares about this whole soulmate thing. 

_It’s nothing,_ he says when Reyna asks what’s up, not that she believes him. Not that he blames her; he’d been spacing lately, trying to figure out what had happened, how to help (but nobody had gone over that part, if it was even possible. Just one more thing to make soulmates _sooo_ great). She just sets a coffee and muffin in front of him and nods to the books on one of the tables. “Thalia figures you’re smart enough to catch up and get your GED, and Annabeth has agreed to tutor you, so get studying Neeks.”

He’s given up protesting the nickname, so he just rolls his eyes and does as he’s told. A GED means college, means choices. He’ll put up with almost anything, including Annabeth, for that.

_\--Fall- Will_

Seventeen and a burst of triumph tears through his life, and he almost starts crying out of relief and shared joy. Whatever it was, something good happened, something as good, if not more, than the bad that’s happened to his soulmate. It’s hard not to feel upbeat after that, and besides, this year has been good to him so far. He’d aced his college entrance tests, and Chiron had high hopes that he’d get in to whatever school he wanted, plus get the scholarships he needed.

Which would be good, because he needed them. Strawberries sold for more than Will had ever imagined, but there were a whole host of kids here, and the profit just covered the camp’s expenses.

Cecil is the only one from the old neighborhood he really talks to anymore; they’ve teamed up with a girl who moved into the house two streets over from where his mom and stepfather still live. They both spend most of their free time at the camp with him, and since they generally help (Lou Ellen more than Cecil, who has a knack for messing _everything_ up), Chiron always seems happy to see them. Even if they are, in Lou’s words, the ‘Disastrous Duo plus Mom Friend.’

He hasn’t told Lou Ellen that the reason he won’t go back to the neighborhood isn’t because of his family, but because he can’t walk past the house next to hers, can’t face the Yews. Cecil swore they didn’t blame him for anything, but it didn’t matter; he could blame himself enough for everyone.

“Hey Will!” Cecil waved his arms like a maniac to get his attention. “Victory ice cream, on me! Let’s go!”

He grinned and ran to catch up; today was going to be a good one.

_\--Freshman Year, Fall- Will_

First year of college and everything’s a blur. He’s on scholarships and aid, and he has a calendar full of deadlines and notes about when to submit what form and to whom, with what evidence. That had been Malcolm’s advice, Cecil’s roommate, and he was beyond glad that he had done it, as much as he and the financial aid counselor had both wanted to tear out their hair as they lined everything up.

But he could breathe now about money, and Silena now had an effusive thank you card and two fancy chocolate bars to enjoy.

Since that burst of joy last year things have been quiet, and he’s glad for that; quiet means no more of that soul-tearing pain he felt eight years ago, that he still felt the ghost of every December. He hopes things have evened out for them.

“So Will.” He looks over where his roommate Austin is fiddling with a metronome pensively.

“Yeah?” he asks when Austin continues to stare at it. The other boy sighed, _I blew it; Dad’s going to be so disappointed._ He winced; Austin had been freaking out about the jazz tryouts. “Hey, it’ll be fine. They announce tomorrow, right?” Austin nodded glumly. “I’ll go with you—you’ll see, you’ll be on that list.”

A weak smile made it onto Austin’s face. “You’re the best man, thanks.”

They get to the music hall later than planned the next day; neither of them had slept well, so the alarm came and went. Austin had been up from nerves (unfounded; as Will suspected, his friend had been one of the first chosen), Will from the soft touches of bittersweet pain that he could just barely feel. Heartbreak, he suspected, and that had him shifting uneasily when he thought about it. Because that feeling meant that his soulmate was not with someone, and he might find them; but as soon as that would fly through, guilt would chase it out, scolding that he should be happy that they had found someone, even if it wasn’t him.

Lou Ellen hands him a large coffee when he goes on break later and gives him a sympathetic look.

“You’ve got one of the most active soulbonds I’ve seen for someone who doesn’t know who their soulmate is.” Her lips quirk at his petulant _not helping Lou_. “Still no idea?”

He just shrugs, drinks his coffee. Tries not to think about the first time he had the conversation about who he thought they might be. The first time he used a gender pronoun. The last time.

“Cecil and Conor have started a betting poll.” He nearly choked, mind fully back in the present, as he suspected she had planned based on her smug grin. “Want to know who’s topping the list?”

“Considering it’s probably that annoying girl from English—”

“Drew,” Lou Ellen helped.

“Yes, her, so no, not really.”

“It’s actually not her,” Lou Ellen smiled conspiratorially. “But he is from your English class. The wanna-be poet. Emo boy.”

He froze, then tried to relax and act unconcerned. “Considering he hasn’t said more than five words to me and that was all in the god-awful group activity Tantalus forced us into, I seriously doubt it.”

“Mm-hmm.”

“Besides, I doubt he even knows who I am.”

“So talk to him dork.” She was fully grinning now. Will just groaned and staggered off to his math class, definitely _not_ thinking about the dark classmate from English Comp.

_\--Sophomore Year, Fall- Nico_

His roommate is a diminutive Latino whose side of the room is essentially a mechanics studio with a sleeping roll under what used to be a bed but is now raised and functioning as a work bench. Within two hours of meeting Leo Valdez (if you’re generous) he wanted to strangle the guy; the fact that both of them were still alive was a testament to the existence of a higher power, aka their RA.

Whose name happened to be Jason Grace, long lost brother of Thalia-terrifying-Grace (versus Jason-saving-Grace) who made him eat and had somehow gotten a hold of the books he needed to get his GED.

The fact that Jason was now currently in his and Leo’s dorm freaking out had them both amused and concerned. _They_ were supposed to mess up and freak out, Jason then fixed things; not the other way around. He _certainly_ wasn’t supposed to come to them for help with his girlfriend. Neither of them had one; Nico didn’t want the hassle of attachments on that level, and somehow despite (in Leo’s opinion, because of in Nico’s) his pick-up lines, Leo remained single.

“And Percy can’t help you because?” Jason threw his hands up in the air, _I already asked him!_  

“Come on man,” Leo sighed, jumping off his workbench. “Nyssa might still be around in the dining hall. She’s way better at this.”

“Hazel too,” he added, his contribution for the night. Jason relaxed, nodding along eagerly in relief that there was someone out there who could help. He resisted the urge to roll his eyes as they left; sometimes he felt he was friends with an overly enthusiastic Golden Retriever. How were the Grace siblings even _related_?

Nyssa wasn’t there, but Hazel and her boyfriend Frank were, chatting with a group that included the tall blonde he recognized from last year’s English Torture class (his name was Will, and it was just a coincidence that his was the _only_ name Nico remembered from that class). Introductions go around, and his name garners an interested _oh I’ve heard about you_ from Lou Ellen and a smirk from Hazel that she hid behind her hand.

“I told her about that group project from Comp last year,” Will offered, looking a little embarrassed and defensive at the eyebrow she raises. “When you shouted at Octavian. And you know, almost tanked our grades.” There’s a little bit of recrimination there that has _him_ on the defensive, and he glowers at his former classmate.

Everyone leaned in.

“Well, he deserved it,” he huffed, and Will rolled his eyes. “Besides, Tantalus didn’t _actually_ fail us.”

“As fascinating as this all is,” Leo drawled before Will could argue further, cutting in with his best demented mechanic grin, “Does anyone know whether Piper Maclean has found her soulmate yet and/or hopes its her boyf—mpf!”  Jason glared at Leo, daring him to continue speaking once he removed his hand. Hazel and Lou Ellen looked sympathetic; Frank like he’d like to be anywhere else now, but that often happened when Nico was around (possibly because when Frank and Hazel started dating, Nico told Frank he knew exactly how to hide a body and warned him not to hurt her). Will winced while Cecil laughed.

“Well, while we’re on the subject—”

“You will shut up,” Will grumbled. “At least for the next fifteen minutes.” Said timeline due to, as they soon found out, Will’s work schedule. As he left he gave Jason a sympathetic look.

“Good luck man.” He glanced at his grinning friend, who’d just gotten his free rein and sighed. “And don’t let Cecil add any more names to his list.”

As the evening progressed, Nico lingered; he learned that Will was working with the campus paramedics. That he wanted to go to med school, be a doctor; he thought it suited the tall blond. He also learned that Cecil had a poll on who Will’s soulmate was, which obscurely annoyed him.

\--

It’s his second Thanksgiving at college, and he feels it again: that ache of wanting the past to be different, the faded echoes of that dull-sharp pain he first felt when he was fifteen, and he’s now pretty sure that this is a repeat thing for his soulmate, like December is for him. The past few years, he had thought he’d felt something, but there had been so much else going on, that it had been easy not to focus on it. Last year he’d hoped it was a fluke, that maybe his soulmate was adjusting to college like he was (he’d been ready to crawl the walls this time last year; too many people).

But right now he’s alone in the dorms, recovering from the flu, while most everyone else is off visiting family or just getting away from the smell of finals on the horizon. The dorm is quiet and warm, and he feels calm and rested; no floormates, no Leo and his insane ADHD. There’s nothing he can turn to to hide from these feelings that creep in, and he has to admit to what he’s feeling.

He feels guilty about missing the previous years, or really, ignoring them. He’s not sure why; he’s never met this person, really, and there’s nothing he could do for him. But still; he feels like he should have done something, held a vigil of some sort. It sounds weird, but it feels right. He also feels a simmer of  anger in his gut, that someone did something to cause this pain.

Also, kind of irrationally, he’s annoyed at his soulmate. It’s _hard_ to feel something this quiet; it’s almost like his soulmate doesn’t want to admit to the pain. He knows all about denying feelings, but that was always to others; he always knew what he felt (even when, _thank you Percy_ , he’d rather have not). Maybe it’s just the time since that first stab of feeling that has this year so muted. Maybe this year’s ripples across the bond have nothing to do with that time four years ago.

_And maybe I’ll wear a Hawaiian shirt tomorrow_.

He knows that pain fades with time, but he also knows that it never really goes away and that sometimes, time only makes things worse.

_And here I am, sitting around uselessly_ , he thought glumly, trying to think supportive, warm thoughts for his soulmate, wherever they were. It’s hard, one because he’s not used to being in this position, and two because he doesn’t even know if this’ll work, which kind of defeats the purpose before he gets started.

After a few minutes of feeling foolish, he looks out across the room and then, and only because he’s alone on the _floor_ , let alone his room, he starts to talk.

_My name is Nico di Angelo_ , he begins, feeling awkward but better than when he was ‘thinking good thoughts,’ _I’m Italian, so Thanksgiving has never really been a big deal for me. But if you’re American, I guess it is. And I’m sorry …_ he paused. Sorry about what? _Sorry that you have to feel this. Sorry that I’m not there._

He couldn’t be certain, but as he continued to talk he hoped that he actually did feel the tightness in his gut loosen, that it wasn’t just wishful thinking.

_\--Sophomore Year, Spring- Will_

Somehow, the Disastrous Duo and Mom Friend (god he hated the name) got lumped in with activities that variously involved Hazel and her friends as well as those who orbited around Percy Jackson and Jason Grace. He wasn’t sure how it had happened, but the upper-classmen were nice, and it meant that their parties had beer.

It was at one of those parties that Percy almost choked to death laughing because Annabeth had finally lost at Trivial Pursuit when she couldn’t answer a medical question and Will had stolen it ( _Cut-throat rules, Wise Girl!_ Percy had laughed, failing to dodge her punch in time. _And_ you _were the one who said you didn’t need a team_.). He was banned from the drinks table shortly after that, when Jason had to pound him on the back three times since he kept laughing, by which point Leo had somehow made an alarm that would sound whenever Percy got within arm’s reach of a drink; this made the remainder of the evening both highly amusing for everyone not named Percy Jackson and extremely frustrating for said Percy Jackson.

He ends up in the same giant myth class as Nico (one more, and he’s done his general ed credits), and they must be gluttons for punishment, because Tantalus is somehow teaching this class as well. More often than not they would sit together, which he discovered was as dangerous for his grade as being forced into a group with him was; di Angelo had a habit of whispering cutting comments under his breadth as Tantalus wandered around the front of the classroom, skeletal limbs waving to emphasize a point. He couldn’t hear Nico, but he could definitely hear Will laugh. So far he’d been able to pass it off as a persistent cough, but based on Nico’s smirk whenever he got Will to laugh, he wasn’t sure how much longer that excuse would hold.

He retaliated after the first week of this by stealing Nico’s coffee, which had resulted in a class period long glare; Nico now hung onto his coffee or, on occasion, brought two.

December had passed almost uneventfully, and he had been able to think of other things for most of Thanksgiving last term. Something’s better this year, for both him and his soulmate, though he’s not sure what; maybe just time. It’s supposed to be a great healer, after all.

He pokes his head into the art studio Hazel had directed him to, and there, as promised, was Nico, glaring at his final studio art project. He didn’t flinch when the glare was transferred to him.

“Doctor’s orders” he announced brightly. “Time to eat.” He laughed as Nico grumbled _you haven’t even gone to med school yet Solace_ , but complying nonetheless. When Hazel and Jason had realized that Nico would actually listen to Will, they had enlisted them in ‘operation make sure Nico eats’ (or as Nico called it, ‘annoy the fuck out of me’); he had lunch and the occasional dinner duty.

He knows better than to ask about the progress of the art project, so instead he asks if Italian is close to Latin. Nico gives him a weird look but answers, shrugging and see-sawing his hand.

“Why?”

“I need help studying for my medical terminology class,” he explained, trying his best to ignore the tightness in his chest that suddenly popped up. “ _Huge_ test in a few weeks, and the final’s going to be worse. Cecil and Lou are useless, mostly because they mispronounce everything.” Nico surprised him by laughing, _yeah, I can see that_ , and offering to help, on one condition.

When he asked what that condition was, he got a wry look in return. “You have to help me move that monstrosity that’s going to be my Art 351 project.”

“In exchange for actually passing this class? You got a deal Death Boy.”

Nico glared. “Don’t call me that. Besides, when are you going to fail a med class Solace?”

Will just grinned and handed him a tray.

_\--Summer- Nico_

Summer is fine, full of working at the coffee shop with Thalia and Reyna, who had bought it off their old boss the year before. In his off time he fills the sketch book they got him for his birthday, filling the pages with things from his dreams and nightmares, swirling images together.

It’s fine, but it’s also kind of lonely, not something he had expected. Last year it had been a relief to get away from everyone; now he finds himself wondering what Will is doing. It annoys him, as do Reyna’s questions about “this mysterious person you’re always thinking about.”

Part-way through the break, a tall, lean man with the same sharp, slightly manic stare that Nico sometimes sees in the mirror visits the shop.

“So,” the man frowns. “Here you are.” A pause. “I suppose you have some of Maria in you.”

He was tempted to curse the man out, in English _and_ Italian (something told him it would get through); he held off though. Thalia and Reyna didn’t need the bad press. A sighed “at least your sister had manners and knew how to greet her father” drew a snarled _I suppose I should thank you for finally showing up?_ out of him, but his outburst got no rise out of the tall man.

“Your escapades around the streets made it difficult to find you Nico, despite social services insisting that you asked about living with me.”

“Yeah, well, the foster system wasn’t great for me. And that was when I was eleven; you’re a little late.” He doesn’t explain why, doesn’t go into how it would have been even less great the last few years. The pronouncement doesn’t change his father’s expression, though the dark man did concede the point. “How the hell did you find me?”

“Your sister.”

“Is dead, so unless you hold séances…?”

A slight frown this time. “I suppose that was sarcasm. No, your half-sister, though I haven’t told her that the two of you are related; I thought you might want that option. Hazel Levesque.”

This time he did curse at the man, not that it got much more of a rise than his other responses. It was a good thing the shop was empty.

After a few more tense moments, he left, leaving Nico with a lawyer’s card and a promise of a trust fund that had been started back when Maria di Angelo had first told Hadley Aidones (aka ‘Lord Hades’ to his employees, but only behind his back) she was pregnant with Bianca.

“It’s yours now.” And he was gone, leaving Nico with the feeling that as far as this tall man was concerned, his duty was now done. And so he had stubbornly shoved the card in his back pocket and done his best to forget about it. He did wonder later which of his sisters had the manners to greet their father properly; could have been either, though he suspected Hazel.

The visit, however, has him more rattled than he’d like to admit, and so when Will calls one day and asks how things are going, Nico finds himself unloading on his friend, apologizing constantly as he does. Eventually Will cuts in.

“Nico, I swear to god, if you apologize one more time for actually doing the healthy thing and _talking about what’s bugging you_ , I will reach through the phone and strangle you.”

It’s enough to derail the panic. “Phones don’t work that way Solace.”

“Where there’s a Will there’s a way.” He groaned; he could just _see_ the smug grin on Will’s face.

“Could you not?”

“What, you’d prefer that I pat your hand and tell you everything will be alright?”

“For a doctor, you have a terrible bedside manner.”

“Only for you Death Boy,” Will countered, and he knew that that triumphant grin was still plastered across Will’s face (and no, he didn’t feel anything from knowing that). “Now keep talking—what are you going to do?”

Nico wants to shut up, from some principal he can hold to with everyone else (well, except maybe Hazel), but he can’t. So he does as he’s told and finds that Will’s right; it does help.

Not that he’ll tell him, or Will would become an even bigger annoyance.

_Junior Year, Fall- Will_

Summer came and went, his hands full as the paramedic at camp, and term starts up again. For everyone else, it starts with a seasoned ‘yeah, I got this’ coupled with a snowball fight to initiate the new term as a freak snowstorm descends from  Canada, shutting everything but cafeteria-tray toboggan races down.

For Will it started with a flash of anger that simmered into embarrassment and resentment, which he took to mean his soulmate had backed themselves into a corner and were too stubborn to get out. (He doesn’t really think about it, or what it means, but somehow he’s gotten better at reading his soulmate’s moods from the flashes of emotion he gets.) It also began with Jason and Percy knocking on his door, looking sheepish.

“We may have messed up,” Percy admitted when they finished telling Will about the fight. He snorted; _you think?_ Percy had graduated, but since Annabeth was now working on her masters in architecture at the same university, they saw him almost as often as before grad.

“And, uh,” Jason stammered, “We were kind of hoping, y’know, that you’d talk to Nico.”

“And what?” Will narrowed his eyes, weighing the options. He liked Jason, and Percy was alright (personally he preferred Annabeth, but he could see why people gravitated to her boyfriend), but if it came to picking sides, he knew where he’d be. _Just talk,_ Jason promised, _He has this tendency to get stuck in his head_.  Well, that he could do.

When he gets a break the next day, he calls Nico. A suspicious hello greets him, like he knows Jason and Percy had come to him. But he doesn’t care about the fight; school’s been back in session for a week now, and he hasn’t seen head nor hide of di Angelo. So after confirming that Nico is, in fact, back on campus, he launches in.

“What, you don’t call or swing by?”

“Wait, what? Why?” Clearly, not what Nico had thought he would say, based on the shock he could hear.

“I don’t know, maybe see how things were going? A friendly face?”

“My … face?”

“Lunch has been boring without someone to take Cecil down.” There’s a sort of strangled noise on the other side, like Nico has cut back a laugh or is trying to get his words to work. He isn’t sure what, but moves on. “You’ve been eating, right?”

Silence, then, “You know Solace, I was perfectly capable of feeding myself on the street. I think I can handle it here.”

Will files that bit of information away, but doesn’t pounce on it; maybe later. “Says the man who once told me that eating a piece of fruit was a perfectly acceptable meal.”

“Fruit is healthy!”

“And McDonalds for a week?” He grinned at the indignant huff on the other side of the line.

“Delicious.”

“Uh-huh.”

“I’ve been eating Solace.”

“And I’ll believe that when I see it di Angelo. You, me, D’s at noon.”

“I have class until 12:45.”

“One then.” A heavy sighed answered him, followed by _fine_.

 He grinned as he hung up, mission accomplished when an annoyed Nico di Angelo showed and grumbled his way through lunch, beginning with _how the hell is my face friendly?_ and ending with a long discourse punctuated with violent hand motions on how nosy Percy and Jason were, and how together the problem was multiplied.

It’s only later that evening that he realizes the backed-into-a-corner feeling  that had been lingering under his ribs was gone. It must have not been as serious as he thought.

_\--Junior Year, Spring- Nico_

Over the winter break, Percy and Annabeth announce that they’re soulmates (not that anyone had seen that coming. Certainly not since high school, Grover had sighed dramatically before ducking as they both threw pop cans at him). They also announce their engagement, and Piper and Jason are beside themselves with glee for their friends.

He’s surprised when he realizes that he doesn’t feel the pain he expected to, that he’s content to be happy for them. And relieved; let Percy be Annabeth’s problem. How things have changed.

Instead, as classes pick back up and the snowball of term gets rolling, his days are full with studio classes and with helping Will drill his medical terminology. He adds a minor in business to his major in studio art only after Annabeth points out that it will be helpful for him to know these things so he doesn’t have to entirely rely on an agent. It’s a good point, and he’d rather not rely on someone else to handle money decisions for him. It’s nerve wracking enough to declare a major in something that doesn’t result in a definite paycheck, but it feels right; best not to add to the stress by being clueless about money.

As finals creep closer, everyone starts feeling the stress. Hazel is fretting over soil chemistry (she had cried and hugged him when he told her what their father had told him, and while it was good to have a sister again, it had been incredibly awkward), and Jason and Piper are fighting for internships. He’s got an art show coming up with the other majors, and Will’s looking at med school, weighing different schools, the cost, and worrying about whether he can even get in. (It’s Lou Ellen who tackles that particular worry by the pasting Will’s A-papers from all of his classes around his room; Will sourly admitted a few days later that she had a point. It only partially worked, though, in terms of dispelling his nerves.)

Still it doesn’t explain why sometimes he’ll look unsettled or distant. He had thought Will was just having bad days, like him, until he overheard Lou Ellen and Hazel talking about it in a group study session one day.

“His soulmate has some insane feelings,” she said quietly, and Nico tried to concentrate on his book. He didn’t want to hear about Will’s soulmate, however much he protested when teased that Will was just a friend, something that was happening with appalling regularity these days. “Super active soulbond. He doesn’t like to talk about it though, so best not to ask. It’s ok though, he mostly knows how to handle it. And at least _he_ remembers to eat.”

That last comment was directed at him (did everyone think he needed to be followed around with a picnic basket?), and so he studiously ignored both girls and pretended to study for his English lit final.

Wrestling with Chaucer’s English was far preferable to dealing with what Lou Ellen’s words had kicked up.

His finals are done in the first few days of the finals period. The tightness in his gut doesn’t go away until the final day, though. He figured he was just worried for his friends, or it was a hold-over from the stress of studying and finishing his art projects. Or who knows, maybe it was a big year for his soulmate. Whatever it was, it was gone in time for the party at Percy and Jason’s to celebrate the end of term, the end of university for Jason and Piper. They would have held it earlier but Hazel and Will had finals up until the end, and they all agreed it wouldn’t have been fair to hold the party earlier.

In all, Nico thought, his third year had gone pretty well.

_\--Senior Year, Fall- Will_

He returns to campus to whispers between Lou Ellen and Hazel. He suspects they’re planning something, but Cecil’s in the dark as far as he can tell, so Will isn’t _too_ worried. He reevaluates that reaction though when subtle and not-so-subtle questions about him and Nico start getting dropped. And based on the glowers Nico kept throwing Jason’s way the last time they all hung out together, he isn’t the only one. He’s pretty sure he’s getting more of the questions though. Unfair.

It’s a busy term for him, which means that half the time it’s _Nico_ who’s making sure that Will is eating and sleeping rather than the other way around. He doesn’t mind, glad that they can continue their lunch dates, and Nico is far more likely to eat properly when he has to remind Will of the need to do so.

His soulbond is quiet, which he’s glad of right now.

Partway through term, Nico hesitantly runs an idea past him for the senior art show that will go up before Thanksgiving.

“I think … It’s just,” he sighed in frustration. “I haven’t really talked about this, so I don’t know if I can be so public about it.”

_I get it_ , he said softly. He almost tells Nico what happened, but bites it back. Won’t help; maybe later. He hasn’t told even Cecil and Lou all of the details, but he thinks that maybe he’ll tell Nico; return the trust that’s being shown to him now.

Nico nodded pensively. “Jason said that I have friends that would have my back in this.” _You do_ , Will agreed. “Even if I do this project?” He sounded unsure, and Will couldn’t blame him; people got kicked out over this. And while Nico might complain till the cows came home that he didn’t care about what his father thought, Will also knew that this was the first time in a while that Nico had family (and he did care about Hazel, even if the jury was still out on ‘Lord Hades’), and that was a hard thing to jeopardize.

“Especially if,” he asserted. “Nico, we’ll _all_ support you. There’ll be other people who complain, or say stuff, but they’re idiots.” His friend snorted, lips quirking in agreement. “Besides, think of everyone who will get to have a voice because of this: you will be supporting _them_ , giving them some help.” He swallowed nervously, throat suddenly dry; his words were hitting a little too close to home. “This needs to be heard.” _Alright then_ , Nico laughed nervously. _Now I guess I just have to get it past my prof._

Boxes go up around campus with a brief description of the project and a request for things heard, things seen that match the project. Will’s not sure how many people respond to the quiet request for submissions, but he adds his own, chest tight as he does. And as he walks away, something feels lighter.

Thanksgiving approaches, and old nightmares come back. No surprise, really; he’s stressed. He thinks about talking to Nico about it, or Cecil or Lou. But Nico’s busy freaking out about the art show, and Will figures that they’re just the stress talking, nothing to worry his friends about.

\--

He makes it to the pre-opening a little before closing, coming off a long day of studying and work. But he’d promised he’d be there, and so here he was.

Nico seems happy to see him, begins complaining almost on cue about things going wrong, set-up, and the visitors, hands waving as he worked through his nerves. He just grins, tries to hide the fact that he finds Nico’s hand-waving to be (just a bit) adorable, and lets himself be taken on a tour of the show.

The theme was _senses,_ and Will finds himself moving through a world designed to heighten sight and sound, that encouraged him to reach out and touch what he found, and even a small corner where scent beckoned.

“The tasting section is only being opened for the formal opening,” Nico told him. “And only after people sign a waiver apparently.” He snorted at Will’s shudder and _I’ll pass._

They stop at a small corridor and Nico announces that _this is it_. He seems hesitant to go in, and Will can’t blame him.

“How’d it go?”

“Good,” Nico worried his lip. “At least I think so. A couple of people have come out crying, but so far no one has tried to curse me out or anything like that.”

Will laughed, a little light-headed. “Well, that’s good.” And they went in, passing the small sign that read _Can you hear what I hear? N. di Angelo, 4 th Year_.

The walls are filled with Nico’s sketches of people Will assumes he’s known and seen over the years. Some stand out, others fade back.

All spend their lives on the streets: the homeless, prostitutes of all varieties, and the low-level drug pushers and their clients.

“Isn’t that Annabeth’s cousin?” Will asked softly, finding a familiar face. Nico nodded, regarding the sketch pensively.

“Yeah, Annabeth told him about this, and he and his partner,” he pointed at the individual beside Magnus, “wanted to help. They’re working on turning Magnus’ uncle’s place into a safe-house or something.” He frowned. “Magnus is alright; Alex was a pain in the ass.” Will laughed, and they moved on, passing faces upon faces that most people would never see.

The discordant hum of the Christmas song hit his ears, and Will felt something tighten in his gut. Christmas was always a little off for him. His mother loved the holiday, and he had enjoyed spending time setting up the tree and decorating with her, helping her finish her shopping. But the homilies of love and forgiveness at the church services he had been hauled off to every year had always sat sour in his gut, especially the last year at home. Then add the helplessness he felt every year… well, suffice to say he wanted to enjoy the holiday more than he actually did.

A hum of voices echoed in the small chamber, one or two raising above the background as what so often lived in the shadows was dragged into the light.

_Is that even a language?_

_Which one of you is the man in the relationship?_

_Yeah, but you’re dating a girl right? So you’re really straight, right?_

_I’m not racist, but you can’t argue with statistics._

_Officer, there’s a man in the woman’s bathroom._

This part of the exhibit was a small antechamber, walls dark with the center illuminated. Nico’s face was pale as he contemplated the space in front of him. As the aggressions continued to echo around them, Will wondered how many Nico had heard, how many were from others. How so much hate could escape unnoticed, could get a free pass.

_I don’t want him alone with my sons._

He froze. And then,

_I understand._

“Will?” A soft brush of fingers jolted through, and he grabbed Nico’s hand, forgetting that he didn’t like physical contact.

“Will?” Nico repeated, linking his fingers with Will’s, an anchor that he suddenly needed.

“Sorry,” he breathed, trying to clear his head. “That one was mine.” Nico’s eyes widened, and he cursed softly in Italian. _Stepfather?_ He asked, and Will nodded, “and my mother.” More cursing.

“Shit Will,” Nico whispered. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize ...” He faded off, not that Will blamed him; he had never said anything about this, though he was pretty sure Nico knew that Will didn’t go back to his mother’s place on the holidays.

“It’s okay Nico,” he sighed, trying to smile and managing only a lopsided, weak version. “It’s not your fault. I thought I had dealt with it; guess not.”

The penetrating look Nico gave him suggested that Nico didn’t quite believe him, but he didn’t push. Instead they continued forward, leaving the small room with its echoing accusations of betrayal behind. He didn’t let go of Nico’s hand, nor Nico his.

The final part of Nico’s installation greeted them as they exited the chamber, and Will smiled at Nico’s answer to _do you know what I know_? It was small: a reflecting pool where a figure holding a small statue of Eros looked down. Looking back up was a reflection in which the figure found its image echoing back and forth upon itself, arms linked in images of friends that surrounded the sides of the pool and its bottom, that filtered down from the light streaming down from above.

The sign proclaimed: _Know our support and the fury of the gods_.

“Jason tried to hug me when he saw this,” Nico grumbled, or tried to, but Will could see his smile and the pleased light in his eyes.

“He was the first one you came out to?” Nico nodded.

_We thank everyone who came to the pre-opening and helped us work through the kinks,_ a voice announced; one of the art profs, he thought. _It’s now closing, so please wander your way back to the entrance._

“Have you eaten yet?” he asked as they made their way back to where Nico had stashed his belongings. He noticed belatedly that he still held Nico’s hand in his, that he was unwilling to let go; he was more rattled by his past than he realized. Maybe he hadn’t dealt with things as well as he had thought.

“Pizza?” Nico suggested. “D’s will be closing soon, but we could get it to go.”

“Sounds great.”

_\--Senior Year, Fall- Nico_

They end up going back to Wills’; Cecil and Austin had both left early for the break, and neither of them feels like dealing with the house full of people that is Nico’s shared place with Jason and Leo. It’s games night, so the whole crew is there. Will picks at his food a bit, but he doesn’t have to badger the blond about eating, though he’s a little worried by the distance in Will’s eyes.

“Want to talk about it?” he asked quietly when they finish, causing Will to grimace. _I suppose I should_ he sighed, looking like he didn’t really want to.

“A doctor once told me it was the healthy thing to do,” he offered offhand, grinning as Will shoved him, annoyance pushing through the unease the art exhibit had kicked up.

“Asshole.”

“Still with the fantastic people skills I see.”

Will rolled his eyes, frustration voiced in a sigh. He shook his head when Nico offered a way out, _no, I should talk about it. And I want to, with you._ Or at least, that’s what he thought Will said, the last bit soft and mumbled.

“My family is super religious,” he said after a moment, looking at his hands. Nico remembers the feel of his hand in Will’s, of fingers linked together, and he tries not to blush, focuses on Will’s words, not the need to reach out and do something. “My stepfather especially. Plus we’ve never really got on. So when I got tired of him talking about not-straight people, well.” The wry lopsided grin was back on his face and he shrugged.

“Didn’t go well?”

“Considering it happened when my mom was going on about how excited she was to meet my _female_ soulmate at the time? Not really. Burst two bubbles at once.”

Will keeps talking, about fights over the summer and his friend Michael from down the street who had tried to move Will out, get him somewhere safe. How Will kept saying _no, no, it’ll be fine_ , but it wasn’t, even though his mother promised it would be. As he talks, voice modulating between the flat tone of _I just want to get this over with_ and wry, bleak humor, Nico feels a tension building, like he’s hearing something familiar but he just can’t quite remember what.

“And then, well, _that_ happened.” Will’s contribution, a year and a bit after the secret came out. And there’s something in his tone that feels so familiar that the words are out before Nico can realize: _Thanksgiving, right?_

Will stares at him, and he realizes what he’s said, and he begins to panic. What made him say that? But before he could say anything, Will swallowed and asked hesitantly,

“What happened when you were ten Nico?”

Now it was his turn to stare.

“Bianca … she ran away,” he could feel his nerves shaking within him; his throat feels tight and dry and he can’t stop himself from talking. “Police found her body right before Christmas. No one knows what happened.”

Will nods, worrying his bottom lip before he spoke up again. “When did you find out—January?”

He knows his mouth was hanging open, but no one else knew that, except maybe Percy and Annabeth who Nico was pretty sure wouldn’t have talked about this to Will (he had kind of made them promise not to  talk to anyone about it when he was twelve, if they wanted him to check in during the summers).

“Nico?”

He thinks about how Will always seems to be there when he needs him. How he feels drawn to Will, the need to be there when he looks tired or stressed. The urge to reach out earlier this evening, right before Will had grabbed his hand.

He meets Will’s eyes and sees uncertainty and worry, but also hope. He sees that light that has always made him smile, however much he would protest otherwise to his friends. And he’s brittle, his veins suddenly needing to hold more energy and feelings than they ever have before, and he needs to do something, or he’s going to explode.

‘I…it’s you,” he whispers. “Oh god, Will, I’m sorry; I never meant to push that on you, a—“

He couldn’t finish, wasn’t allowed to as Will drew him into a tight embrace, shaking himself as he pressed his forehead against Nico’s.

“It’s you; it’s _you_.” There’s wonder and happiness there, and a bright, bright smile and Nico finally lets himself admit how much he loves that smile.

And Nico couldn’t think of any better response than to tangle his fingers in Will’s hair, to hold on as tight as he could, to smile in response.

“It’s you,” he repeats, breathless; say it enough times, and it must be so, has to be. He feels so _happy_ right now, he’s not sure he can contain it. “I can’t believe … it’s just, I never believed that I would get…” he shook his head, unable to get the words out. “This is real, right?”

“It better be,” Will insisted fiercely, and despite the happiness, the relief of finding his soulmate— _Will_!—he feels the scratchings of self-doubt. Will must have felt something because his face softened, and he continued talking.

“Lou has been teasing me constantly after that comp class our freshman year,” he blushed, his smile softened but still reaching and lighting his eyes. Nico wondered how something that could look so terrible on him could look so good on Will. “I couldn’t stop talking about you.”

He blushes.

“You’ve been at the top of Cecil’s poll since that course too,” Will admits. _I thought that was a joke_! His protest sets off a giddy burst of laughter from Will, who just shrugs, “It was … but then around sophomore year the poll changed from ‘who’ to ‘when.’”

“Oh.” He thinks about that, then admits, feeling his ears heat up as he does, “Hazel insists that we’re actually dating, we just haven’t realized it. Probably because I couldn’t stop talking about you either.”

“So this is real,” Will insisted, voice low and sure. “And I’d really like to kiss you right now Death Boy.”

“Then what’s stopping you, _Sunshine_?”

Will had the gall to laugh, “And how long have you been holding onto that one?” He wanted to scowl, but couldn’t; laughed recklessly instead.

“Just shut up and kiss me already Solace.” And this time, Will complied.


End file.
